By Kelly
I woke up this morning and saw Corey standing in the middle of the bedroom getting dressed for work. The kids were bouncing on some cushions on the floor, which they undoubtedly stripped off my white reading chairs in the corner. I struggled to get out of bed and join the party, but I was so groggy. My eyelids just wouldn’t stay open. I actually ended up walking around the room with my eyes closed, wondering why I couldn’t shake the woozy.
And then I woke up.
No one was in the room but me. I was laying in bed in sweat-soaked pajamas, struggling to distinguish reality from my dreams.
Such is the sleep of a pregnant woman.
I crave sleep during the first trimester, not only because I’m extra-tired, but because sleep offers the only sure respite I have from the nausea. So I sleep as often as I can. I go to bed at the earliest time possible. I nap every afternoon with my toddler. I’ve even been known to fall asleep during a showing of “Sesame Street” and/or the Vikings-Packers Monday Night Football game.
But for all the benefit of sleep, it’s the dreams that make headlines.
Last night, I dreamed I was living in a small town on the shore of Lake Superior. It was winter and everything was white and snowy and desolate. I was trying to talk Joel Flieschman, he of “Northern Exposure”: fame, into walking out on Lake Superior since it was frozen solid. “It’s what the locals do,” I assured him. He said he’d prefer to go somewhere not so windy (and it’s true, towns along the Great Lakes are boisterous in the winter) and talk “eye-to-eye.” (Like that even makes sense!) I was explaining to him that the only way to get away from the wind was to go up and over the hill when I woke up.
I had two other bizarre, Technicolor dreams last night, but I don’t want to bore you with the details – although I could, because I remember them vividly.
The point is, we pregnant women dream strange dreams.
I can’t figure out if it’s because our bodies are freaking out on us, possibly causing a tidal wave of hormones in our brains to rewire our normal REM patterns. Or maybe it’s just because we wake up all the time to pee, thus making dream recollection an easier feat.
Either way, I bet you still remember your most bizarre pregnancy dream. Hit me with it. And if it includes obscure (but beloved) TV characters from a hit show in the 90s, you get bonus points.
Kelly is currently expecting her fourth child, which means she has a lot of pregnancy dreams stored in her gray matter. She blogs at Love Well.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Pregnancy Journal: "Morning" Sickness
By Kelly
Welcome back to the Pregnancy Journal here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. You can find more information about this project here.
You know those medical professionals who say each pregnancy is different?
Hogwash. In my experience, it’s hogwash.
Each of my pregnancies – and this is my fifth – have been identical. I start out fine, excited and a little mystified at the reality that I’m pregnant.
A few days after I test positive, I start to feel queasy.
And two weeks later – almost to the hour – I’m laying on the couch, nauseous to the point of moaning, wishing I could just throw up already and get it over with so I could have a few minutes of relief.
But I don’t throw up. This is my particular brand of pregnancy. I’m just nauseous 24-7 from week six to week twelve.
As far as difficult pregnancies go, I know this is a small cross to bear. I have a good friend who is due in early December, and she’s still throwing up an a regular basis. Technically, she has hyperemesis gravidarum, which is the medical term for throwing up every five minutes. During her first trimester, she required an IV of fluids to keep her hydrated and an IV of Zofran to help her make it to the shower. She’s doing better now. We see each other at school, and she’s upright and smiling and able to walk her kids to class without having to rush to the bathroom.
So I know it could be worse.
But as my friend told me, that’s a small consolation when you are laying on your couch in misery, and you know dinner needs to be cooked but you’d rather die than touch raw meat at the moment, and your kids are hungry and tired of watching TV for entertainment and no one is coming to rescue you.
When my sister-in-law was pregnant last year, I sent her an e-mail asking how she was holding up.
She e-mailed back: “I’m rotting from the inside out.”
Yes. That’s it exactly.
Pregnancy. It’s not for wimps.
So how about you: Did you suffer from "morning" sickness? Or are you one of the lucky ones who escaped this pregnancy hurdle? Tell me your story. It will distract me from my misery.
Kelly is currently 10 weeks pregnant, which means she's nearing the end of the nausea fog. Once the fog has lifted, she plans to blog regularly again about her family, her faith, foibles and her favorite foodsat her personal blog, Love Well.
Welcome back to the Pregnancy Journal here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. You can find more information about this project here.
You know those medical professionals who say each pregnancy is different?
Hogwash. In my experience, it’s hogwash.
Each of my pregnancies – and this is my fifth – have been identical. I start out fine, excited and a little mystified at the reality that I’m pregnant.
A few days after I test positive, I start to feel queasy.
And two weeks later – almost to the hour – I’m laying on the couch, nauseous to the point of moaning, wishing I could just throw up already and get it over with so I could have a few minutes of relief.
But I don’t throw up. This is my particular brand of pregnancy. I’m just nauseous 24-7 from week six to week twelve.
As far as difficult pregnancies go, I know this is a small cross to bear. I have a good friend who is due in early December, and she’s still throwing up an a regular basis. Technically, she has hyperemesis gravidarum, which is the medical term for throwing up every five minutes. During her first trimester, she required an IV of fluids to keep her hydrated and an IV of Zofran to help her make it to the shower. She’s doing better now. We see each other at school, and she’s upright and smiling and able to walk her kids to class without having to rush to the bathroom.
So I know it could be worse.
But as my friend told me, that’s a small consolation when you are laying on your couch in misery, and you know dinner needs to be cooked but you’d rather die than touch raw meat at the moment, and your kids are hungry and tired of watching TV for entertainment and no one is coming to rescue you.
When my sister-in-law was pregnant last year, I sent her an e-mail asking how she was holding up.
She e-mailed back: “I’m rotting from the inside out.”
Yes. That’s it exactly.
Pregnancy. It’s not for wimps.
So how about you: Did you suffer from "morning" sickness? Or are you one of the lucky ones who escaped this pregnancy hurdle? Tell me your story. It will distract me from my misery.
Kelly is currently 10 weeks pregnant, which means she's nearing the end of the nausea fog. Once the fog has lifted, she plans to blog regularly again about her family, her faith, foibles and her favorite foodsat her personal blog, Love Well.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Pregnancy Journal
By Kelly
Women, as a collective, share many things. Stories about buying our first bra, getting our first period and waiting for that high-school crush to call can unite a disparate group and cause instant camaraderie to well up.
But nothing really touches the symbiotic topics of pregnancy and childbirth. It can ignite a firestorm of conversation. "How long did you throw up? Yeah, me too." "And that heartburn! Didn't you want to call a firefighter some nights and say, 'Help me out here!'" "And then I started pushing, and I thought I was going to die from the pain."
I love that. I love that moms, no matter their ages or backgrounds, share this common theme in the story. No one understands it like us. No one has lived it like us. And while each of our chapters in the story is unique, we all share an understanding of this unique calling of motherhood.
Certainly, I am just one voice among many. But because I am also launching down this path for the fifth -- and most likely, final -- time, I thought I'd keep a journal of this pregnancy here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. It won't be a recording of my weight and the baby's development. Rather, I hope it will be a reflection on this amazing, weird journey of pregnancy. (Today's entry is actually a few weeks old, but I thought you might like to hear how we discovered I'm with child.)
Please add your voice to the conversation as we travel these next 35 weeks together. There is nothing I love more than a good pregnancy story. I can't wait to hear your experiences.
---
It’s one of those moments that makes you doubt your senses.
I took a pregnancy test last week, secretly hoping, but not expecting a positive result. My hands shook as I waited for the test liquid (discreet, no?) to spread down the stick. I watched as a solid line showed up (the negative line) and then the test line (so I knew I did it correctly). And then, ever so faintly, so pale I didn’t trust my eyes, I saw a plus sign appear in the result window.
Or at least I thought I did. I looked. I turned it in the light. I looked again. Faint. Oh so faint. Weak, like my breathing at that moment.
I decided to call it a negative and test again in a few days.
And that re-test day was today.
By this point, I had a stronger suspicion. There was nothing definite – no symptoms, other than a missed period. And even that is questionable, given my irregular history.
But I still wondered. Six days after a dim maybe-I-need-glasses test result. Could it really be?
It could.
It is.
I’m pregnant.
--
I tested first thing in the morning, to take advantage of that morning pee. I was hurrying, lest the kids – who don’t understand the concept of privacy – push through the bathroom store and see Mom putting a lid on something she just took out of the potty. My hands shook – again. But my hands shake every time I take a pregnancy test. There’s so much life-changing potential in that little plastic stick.
The plus signed showed up immediately. Immediately. No doubting, no wondering. It was definite.
Corey was in the shower, unaware that everything was about to change.
I stuck my head behind the shower curtain and held up the positive test.
He squinted.
“I’m pregnant!” I mouthed through the thunder of water.
His eyes got big. He focused more intently on the test.
“Really?” he grinned.
I grinned back.
But we didn’t have long to rejoice. It was only the third day of school for Natalie, and the all-important first day of kindergarten for Connor. I had to get ready for the day, make sure backpacks were packed, clothes were on, lunches were ready. Mom was needed.
I shoved the positive test deep into my bathroom drawer, behind the floss and under the hair shine serum. For now, it’s a secret between me and Corey and the God who sees this little one.
Kelly also blogs at Love Well.
Women, as a collective, share many things. Stories about buying our first bra, getting our first period and waiting for that high-school crush to call can unite a disparate group and cause instant camaraderie to well up.
But nothing really touches the symbiotic topics of pregnancy and childbirth. It can ignite a firestorm of conversation. "How long did you throw up? Yeah, me too." "And that heartburn! Didn't you want to call a firefighter some nights and say, 'Help me out here!'" "And then I started pushing, and I thought I was going to die from the pain."
I love that. I love that moms, no matter their ages or backgrounds, share this common theme in the story. No one understands it like us. No one has lived it like us. And while each of our chapters in the story is unique, we all share an understanding of this unique calling of motherhood.
Certainly, I am just one voice among many. But because I am also launching down this path for the fifth -- and most likely, final -- time, I thought I'd keep a journal of this pregnancy here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. It won't be a recording of my weight and the baby's development. Rather, I hope it will be a reflection on this amazing, weird journey of pregnancy. (Today's entry is actually a few weeks old, but I thought you might like to hear how we discovered I'm with child.)
Please add your voice to the conversation as we travel these next 35 weeks together. There is nothing I love more than a good pregnancy story. I can't wait to hear your experiences.
---
It’s one of those moments that makes you doubt your senses.
I took a pregnancy test last week, secretly hoping, but not expecting a positive result. My hands shook as I waited for the test liquid (discreet, no?) to spread down the stick. I watched as a solid line showed up (the negative line) and then the test line (so I knew I did it correctly). And then, ever so faintly, so pale I didn’t trust my eyes, I saw a plus sign appear in the result window.
Or at least I thought I did. I looked. I turned it in the light. I looked again. Faint. Oh so faint. Weak, like my breathing at that moment.
I decided to call it a negative and test again in a few days.
And that re-test day was today.
By this point, I had a stronger suspicion. There was nothing definite – no symptoms, other than a missed period. And even that is questionable, given my irregular history.
But I still wondered. Six days after a dim maybe-I-need-glasses test result. Could it really be?
It could.
It is.
I’m pregnant.
--
I tested first thing in the morning, to take advantage of that morning pee. I was hurrying, lest the kids – who don’t understand the concept of privacy – push through the bathroom store and see Mom putting a lid on something she just took out of the potty. My hands shook – again. But my hands shake every time I take a pregnancy test. There’s so much life-changing potential in that little plastic stick.
The plus signed showed up immediately. Immediately. No doubting, no wondering. It was definite.
Corey was in the shower, unaware that everything was about to change.
I stuck my head behind the shower curtain and held up the positive test.
He squinted.
“I’m pregnant!” I mouthed through the thunder of water.
His eyes got big. He focused more intently on the test.
“Really?” he grinned.
I grinned back.
But we didn’t have long to rejoice. It was only the third day of school for Natalie, and the all-important first day of kindergarten for Connor. I had to get ready for the day, make sure backpacks were packed, clothes were on, lunches were ready. Mom was needed.
I shoved the positive test deep into my bathroom drawer, behind the floss and under the hair shine serum. For now, it’s a secret between me and Corey and the God who sees this little one.
Kelly also blogs at Love Well.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Seeds
By Kelly
I was quickly changing the baby from pajamas to clothes this morning – which could describe any morning during the school year, really – when my five-year-old walked into the room, shot me a big grin and said, “I brushed my teeth before I put my clothes on today, Mommy.”
The following thoughts shot through my mind like lightning:
“That’s strange. He hates brushing his teeth. And he’s never done it first thing. But he’s telling me this voluntarily. Why?”
And then the direct hit: “Could he be lying?”
I helped a chubby arm through an sleeve and glanced at my son, still beaming with an angelic smile. “Are you sure, buddy?” I said. “Because that’s not like you.”
“I did!” he insisted, although I saw his grin falter.
I set the baby on the ground and walked into the bathroom. I felt his toothbrush. It was dry.
I came out and looked him in the eye. “Buddy, don’t lie to me. Your toothbrush isn’t even wet. The sink isn’t wet.”
He looked away.
“It’s far more serious to lie to me than to not brush your teeth,” I gently warned. “Because then I can’t trust you. And that changes everything.”
He still didn’t look at me, but I could see from the embarrassed flush that my message was getting through. He took the toothbrush out of my hand and walked directly to the sink.
Two minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a bigger smile, fresher breath and a clean conscience.
“I did it, Mom, I really did it this time.”
“Good buddy. I’m glad. But I think you owe me an apology for lying.”
He threw himself into a vice grip around my waist.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“I’m glad, buddy,” I said.
And I am glad. I’m glad I was able to catch him so simply, I’m glad he responded to my correction without retort.
Because I’m older and wiser, and I know what a life of duplicity bears. It’s a seed I don’t want planted.
Kelly also blogs at Love Well.
I was quickly changing the baby from pajamas to clothes this morning – which could describe any morning during the school year, really – when my five-year-old walked into the room, shot me a big grin and said, “I brushed my teeth before I put my clothes on today, Mommy.”
The following thoughts shot through my mind like lightning:
“That’s strange. He hates brushing his teeth. And he’s never done it first thing. But he’s telling me this voluntarily. Why?”
And then the direct hit: “Could he be lying?”
I helped a chubby arm through an sleeve and glanced at my son, still beaming with an angelic smile. “Are you sure, buddy?” I said. “Because that’s not like you.”
“I did!” he insisted, although I saw his grin falter.
I set the baby on the ground and walked into the bathroom. I felt his toothbrush. It was dry.
I came out and looked him in the eye. “Buddy, don’t lie to me. Your toothbrush isn’t even wet. The sink isn’t wet.”
He looked away.
“It’s far more serious to lie to me than to not brush your teeth,” I gently warned. “Because then I can’t trust you. And that changes everything.”
He still didn’t look at me, but I could see from the embarrassed flush that my message was getting through. He took the toothbrush out of my hand and walked directly to the sink.
Two minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a bigger smile, fresher breath and a clean conscience.
“I did it, Mom, I really did it this time.”
“Good buddy. I’m glad. But I think you owe me an apology for lying.”
He threw himself into a vice grip around my waist.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“I’m glad, buddy,” I said.
And I am glad. I’m glad I was able to catch him so simply, I’m glad he responded to my correction without retort.
Because I’m older and wiser, and I know what a life of duplicity bears. It’s a seed I don’t want planted.
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree
I planted,---they have torn me---and I bleed:
I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
- Lord Byron, "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage"
Kelly also blogs at Love Well.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A SAHM Moment
By Kelly
I pulled into the garage this afternoon a little after 1:00, with the following list of urgent concerns.
1. Corey needed me to e-mail him some directions immediately; he was going to be leaving the office in 5 minutes.
2. I had two Trader Joe's bags in the back of the mini-van.
3. One was packed with frozen vegetables, which had already been in the car for two hours.
4. The other was packed with fresh flowers, which had been out of water for two hours; I could see the tulips wilting.
5. Teyla had a stinky diaper.
6. She was also throwing a fit because I wouldn't give her the churro she could see in the front seat.
7. Connor was halfway through his quesadilla lunch and needed something to drink ASAP lest he choke and die.
8. I really, really needed to go to the bathroom.
9. I was really, really hungry. My footlong tuna Subway I had just picked up was calling my name.
10. The phone was ringing.
Which task do you do first?
Leave a comment here first. Then you can click over to Kelly's personal blog, Love Well, to see what she prioritized.
I pulled into the garage this afternoon a little after 1:00, with the following list of urgent concerns.
1. Corey needed me to e-mail him some directions immediately; he was going to be leaving the office in 5 minutes.
2. I had two Trader Joe's bags in the back of the mini-van.
3. One was packed with frozen vegetables, which had already been in the car for two hours.
4. The other was packed with fresh flowers, which had been out of water for two hours; I could see the tulips wilting.
5. Teyla had a stinky diaper.
6. She was also throwing a fit because I wouldn't give her the churro she could see in the front seat.
7. Connor was halfway through his quesadilla lunch and needed something to drink ASAP lest he choke and die.
8. I really, really needed to go to the bathroom.
9. I was really, really hungry. My footlong tuna Subway I had just picked up was calling my name.
10. The phone was ringing.
Which task do you do first?
Leave a comment here first. Then you can click over to Kelly's personal blog, Love Well, to see what she prioritized.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Home
By Kelly
Corey and I went for a walk after dinner tonight. The older kids were playing with friends in the neighborhood, laughing and riding bikes in the golden, evening twilight. So it was just me, my husband, our 20-month-old Teyla and the dog.
Corey and I chatted about Natalie’s first day of third grade and the possibility of the weather turning cooler later in the week. Teyla, puppy-like, shrieked with joy to be out of the house and ran circles between our legs. The dog pranced at the end of her leash, nose up, ears alert. You never know when a squirrel is going to pop out of a bush.
We walked to the end of our development to a place where the forest meets the city. The tree tops were gilded with sunshine. We let the dog off her leash for a few minutes, and let Teyla explore the wildflowers growing next to the road and the few yellow and orange leaves on the ground that have already fled their summer home.
It was all so ordinary. The smell of stir-fried garlic and onions lingered on my fingers, and Teyla stopped to study a bug crawling on the ground.
Yet, for just a moment, it wasn’t ordinary at all. I forgot all about Teyla’s short nap and the spilled milk before dinner and the hassle of putting away a weekend’s worth of toys in one morning.
Instead, I just was.
I was a wife. A mother. A woman who overflowed with gratitude for the beauty of everyday life.
I picked up my curly-headed daughter and tucked my hand into my husband’s arm and headed toward one of the best gifts I know – home.
Kelly can also be found blogging at Love Well.
Corey and I went for a walk after dinner tonight. The older kids were playing with friends in the neighborhood, laughing and riding bikes in the golden, evening twilight. So it was just me, my husband, our 20-month-old Teyla and the dog.
Corey and I chatted about Natalie’s first day of third grade and the possibility of the weather turning cooler later in the week. Teyla, puppy-like, shrieked with joy to be out of the house and ran circles between our legs. The dog pranced at the end of her leash, nose up, ears alert. You never know when a squirrel is going to pop out of a bush.
We walked to the end of our development to a place where the forest meets the city. The tree tops were gilded with sunshine. We let the dog off her leash for a few minutes, and let Teyla explore the wildflowers growing next to the road and the few yellow and orange leaves on the ground that have already fled their summer home.
It was all so ordinary. The smell of stir-fried garlic and onions lingered on my fingers, and Teyla stopped to study a bug crawling on the ground.
Yet, for just a moment, it wasn’t ordinary at all. I forgot all about Teyla’s short nap and the spilled milk before dinner and the hassle of putting away a weekend’s worth of toys in one morning.
Instead, I just was.
I was a wife. A mother. A woman who overflowed with gratitude for the beauty of everyday life.
I picked up my curly-headed daughter and tucked my hand into my husband’s arm and headed toward one of the best gifts I know – home.
Kelly can also be found blogging at Love Well.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Air Travel, Not Scare Travel: Navigating the Not-So-Friendly Skies with your Kids
By Kelly
I knew we’d get the looks. Anyone traveling by plane with three kids, as we did last week, is bound to be on the receiving end of a few “please don’t sit by me” glances. And when we walked up to security, it’s amazing to watch the gait of our fellow travelers quicken, as they try to get ahead of us in line.
But they need not worry. Our family travels a lot, and at this stage, the kids are experts at navigating the complex world of air travel.
My husband and I have gotten more savvy too. When we first started flying with our children, we carefully read all the travel tips for parents on the web. (Some good lists here, here and here.) And we gleaned a lot of ideas from those tip-sheets.
But we’ve also compiled a few less-obvious tactics of our own. Which I’m sharing with you today, for free. I know. My generosity is astounding.
If possible, fly at naptime.
The best time of day for families to fly is a debated topic among experts. Some recommend that families fly as early as possible, to avoid the inevitable delays that snowball throughout the day. Some recommend traveling late at night, the better to score empty seats on the plane.
But we’ve found the early and late flights are almost always occupied by business people, who are the least friendly when it comes to children. So if possible, we try to fly around lunchtime, which gives us the best chance that one of the kids will fall asleep for part of the flight. Plus, the mid-day flights tend to be filled with fellow families and traveling grandparents, which makes for a friendlier group.
Pack healthy snacks and empty sippy cups.
I think everyone knows the airlines no longer serve meals mid-flight. A few still pass out complimentary bags of pretzels and peanuts. (Warning: If your child has a peanut allergy, be sure to call ahead and ask.) A few others sell small snack boxes for $5 or so, which are filled with processed, high-fat, high-sodium junk food. Naturally, my kids love the snack boxes, and to be honest, we’ve bought them on many a trip. The kids will spend 30-45 minutes investigating the contents of that tiny box.
But most of the time, I want my family to eat healthier than processed cheese spread and sausage sticks. So I pack a bag of baby carrots, sliced apples, sugar snap peas and raisins to snack on during the flight.
Best tip: I also pack disposable sippy cups – even for the older kids – and I ask the flight attendants to pour the complimentary beverages right in. That way, I don’t have to worry about a lapful of icy cold apple juice. And yes, I learned this one the hard way.
Don’t bring a stroller unless you have to.
Obviously, if you have a newborn, bring a stroller. Not only is it impossible to carry those newborn carseats without making your knees look like you sustained a Mafia attack, the stroller comes in handy for carrying the extra gear you need for a newborn.
But once your baby is a toddler, and loathe to ride in a seat when he or she could walk, ditch the stroller. You have to fold it down to take it through security, go on elevators instead of escalators at key junctures through the airport, and it makes it harder to maneuver in a crowd.
We went stroller-less on our trip to Colorado last week and we pleasantly surprised at how freeing it was. There were times when we needed to carry our toddler, just to keep up the pace. But overall, it made the trip much easier.
Do look for airport playgrounds.
Airport playgrounds are a fairly new idea, but what an idea, especially since it’s wise for families to arrive at the airport extra early for their flight. Almost half the major U.S. airports have playgrounds these days. It might not be near your gate, but if you have time, letting the kids get their wiggles out by running around a miniature air control tower is the perfect pre-boarding activity.
Don’t overpack toys.
I used to pack a huge bag of toys for each of my children. After all, we had four hours of time to fill between Minneapolis and California. What if they weren’t properly occupied?
Then I found that they were more interested in investigating the contents of the seatback pocket than the coloring books that I brought from home. And each time they wanted something new, I had to bend down and pull out the bag from under the seat in front of me and hold my breath while I scrounged around for the requested plaything.
These days, I let the older kids back a small bag of toys themselves. (My son uses his school lunchbox. That’s the perfect size.) And for the baby, I pack some books, a Color Wonder coloring book and that’s all. It works just fine.
Look for creative play opportunities on the plane.
The seatbelts alone have occupied my kids for 15 minutes. Push in. Click. Pull up. Click. What if I turn it around? What if I try the one on the seat next to me? What if I swing it around my head and hit my sibling in the mouth?
They are also amused by the flight safety pamphlets (all those colors and comic book pictures) and the Sky Mall catalog (we use it to play I Spy). They love to look out the window and talk about what they see on the ground. Even the teeny, tiny bathrooms offer tons of diversions.
Never underestimate a child’s smile to light the way.
A couple of years ago, I flew by myself with my two oldest kids (at the time, 5 and 3) to visit my family in San Jose. I was nervous about flying solo, and the fact that I was flying in the busy post-Christmas rush didn’t help.
As we waited in the long security line, one of the most dour TSA officers I’ve ever seen sat near the front and shouted out instructions. “Have your boarding passes and picture IDs out and accessible! Do not try to bring on liquid of more than 3 ounces! This includes water, coffee, hair spray shampoo and the jam your Grandma gave you as a gift!”
She didn’t sound friendly. My kids were in awe of her fierce manner. I figured she would be the type to look sternly at my ID and then frown at the children before barking at us to move ahead.
But lo and behold, when she saw the kids, her whole demeanor changed. Her voice softened and her face broke into something like a smile and she leaned over and said, “And where are you two traveling today?” My five-year-old, emboldened by the new tone, immediately started sharing our plans of time with Grammie and Papa and the new baby cousin that was soon to be born and a possible trip to Disneyland to see Mickey and Minnie.
The TSA agent listened attentively, even as she was stamping our boarding passes. Then she smiled at me, winked at the kids and waved us through.
Sometimes, traveling with kids is a blessing in disguise.
When she's not traveling or defeating the piles of post-vacation laundry, Kelly blogs at her personal blog, Love Well.
I knew we’d get the looks. Anyone traveling by plane with three kids, as we did last week, is bound to be on the receiving end of a few “please don’t sit by me” glances. And when we walked up to security, it’s amazing to watch the gait of our fellow travelers quicken, as they try to get ahead of us in line.
But they need not worry. Our family travels a lot, and at this stage, the kids are experts at navigating the complex world of air travel.
My husband and I have gotten more savvy too. When we first started flying with our children, we carefully read all the travel tips for parents on the web. (Some good lists here, here and here.) And we gleaned a lot of ideas from those tip-sheets.
But we’ve also compiled a few less-obvious tactics of our own. Which I’m sharing with you today, for free. I know. My generosity is astounding.
If possible, fly at naptime.
The best time of day for families to fly is a debated topic among experts. Some recommend that families fly as early as possible, to avoid the inevitable delays that snowball throughout the day. Some recommend traveling late at night, the better to score empty seats on the plane.
But we’ve found the early and late flights are almost always occupied by business people, who are the least friendly when it comes to children. So if possible, we try to fly around lunchtime, which gives us the best chance that one of the kids will fall asleep for part of the flight. Plus, the mid-day flights tend to be filled with fellow families and traveling grandparents, which makes for a friendlier group.
Pack healthy snacks and empty sippy cups.
I think everyone knows the airlines no longer serve meals mid-flight. A few still pass out complimentary bags of pretzels and peanuts. (Warning: If your child has a peanut allergy, be sure to call ahead and ask.) A few others sell small snack boxes for $5 or so, which are filled with processed, high-fat, high-sodium junk food. Naturally, my kids love the snack boxes, and to be honest, we’ve bought them on many a trip. The kids will spend 30-45 minutes investigating the contents of that tiny box.
But most of the time, I want my family to eat healthier than processed cheese spread and sausage sticks. So I pack a bag of baby carrots, sliced apples, sugar snap peas and raisins to snack on during the flight.
Best tip: I also pack disposable sippy cups – even for the older kids – and I ask the flight attendants to pour the complimentary beverages right in. That way, I don’t have to worry about a lapful of icy cold apple juice. And yes, I learned this one the hard way.
Don’t bring a stroller unless you have to.
Obviously, if you have a newborn, bring a stroller. Not only is it impossible to carry those newborn carseats without making your knees look like you sustained a Mafia attack, the stroller comes in handy for carrying the extra gear you need for a newborn.
But once your baby is a toddler, and loathe to ride in a seat when he or she could walk, ditch the stroller. You have to fold it down to take it through security, go on elevators instead of escalators at key junctures through the airport, and it makes it harder to maneuver in a crowd.
We went stroller-less on our trip to Colorado last week and we pleasantly surprised at how freeing it was. There were times when we needed to carry our toddler, just to keep up the pace. But overall, it made the trip much easier.
Do look for airport playgrounds.
Airport playgrounds are a fairly new idea, but what an idea, especially since it’s wise for families to arrive at the airport extra early for their flight. Almost half the major U.S. airports have playgrounds these days. It might not be near your gate, but if you have time, letting the kids get their wiggles out by running around a miniature air control tower is the perfect pre-boarding activity.
Don’t overpack toys.
I used to pack a huge bag of toys for each of my children. After all, we had four hours of time to fill between Minneapolis and California. What if they weren’t properly occupied?
Then I found that they were more interested in investigating the contents of the seatback pocket than the coloring books that I brought from home. And each time they wanted something new, I had to bend down and pull out the bag from under the seat in front of me and hold my breath while I scrounged around for the requested plaything.
These days, I let the older kids back a small bag of toys themselves. (My son uses his school lunchbox. That’s the perfect size.) And for the baby, I pack some books, a Color Wonder coloring book and that’s all. It works just fine.
Look for creative play opportunities on the plane.
The seatbelts alone have occupied my kids for 15 minutes. Push in. Click. Pull up. Click. What if I turn it around? What if I try the one on the seat next to me? What if I swing it around my head and hit my sibling in the mouth?
They are also amused by the flight safety pamphlets (all those colors and comic book pictures) and the Sky Mall catalog (we use it to play I Spy). They love to look out the window and talk about what they see on the ground. Even the teeny, tiny bathrooms offer tons of diversions.
Never underestimate a child’s smile to light the way.
A couple of years ago, I flew by myself with my two oldest kids (at the time, 5 and 3) to visit my family in San Jose. I was nervous about flying solo, and the fact that I was flying in the busy post-Christmas rush didn’t help.
As we waited in the long security line, one of the most dour TSA officers I’ve ever seen sat near the front and shouted out instructions. “Have your boarding passes and picture IDs out and accessible! Do not try to bring on liquid of more than 3 ounces! This includes water, coffee, hair spray shampoo and the jam your Grandma gave you as a gift!”
She didn’t sound friendly. My kids were in awe of her fierce manner. I figured she would be the type to look sternly at my ID and then frown at the children before barking at us to move ahead.
But lo and behold, when she saw the kids, her whole demeanor changed. Her voice softened and her face broke into something like a smile and she leaned over and said, “And where are you two traveling today?” My five-year-old, emboldened by the new tone, immediately started sharing our plans of time with Grammie and Papa and the new baby cousin that was soon to be born and a possible trip to Disneyland to see Mickey and Minnie.
The TSA agent listened attentively, even as she was stamping our boarding passes. Then she smiled at me, winked at the kids and waved us through.
Sometimes, traveling with kids is a blessing in disguise.
When she's not traveling or defeating the piles of post-vacation laundry, Kelly blogs at her personal blog, Love Well.
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